She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. She would rend him limb from limb like a fiend if only she could move. A woman’s shoe lay on the threadbare carpeting. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. But once I started, Forever Fifteen seemed to fly out of me like a bat out of Hell, virtually writing itself. ’ ‘Comment? But already he has made this visit—in town. I am no exception. The scrutiny of any strange man provoked a sweaty terror. A dresser, a washstand, and a clothes press.
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